for example, Freddy Honeychurch."

"Oh, Freddy's a good sort, isn't he?"

"Admirable. The sort who has made England what she is."

Cecil wondered at himself. Why, on this day of all others, was he
so hopelessly contrary? He tried to get right by inquiring
effusively after Mr. Beebe's mother, an old lady for whom he had
no particular regard. Then he flattered the clergyman, praised
his liberal-mindedness, his enlightened attitude towards
philosophy and science.

"Where are the others?" said Mr. Beebe at last, "I insist on
extracting tea before evening service."

"I suppose Anne never told them you were here. In this house one
is so coached in the servants the day one arrives. The fault of
Anne is that she begs your pardon when she hears you perfectly,
and kicks the chair-legs with her feet. The faults of Mary--
I forget the faults of Mary, but they are very grave. Shall we
look in the garden?"

"I know the faults of Mary. She leaves the dust-pans standing on
the stairs."

"The fault of Euphemia is that she will not, simply will not,
chop the suet sufficiently small."

They both laughed, and things began to go better.